


Color of Christmas

by zebraljb



Series: Tis the Season [25]
Category: Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Barista Eggsy Unwin, Christmas Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-25
Updated: 2018-12-25
Packaged: 2019-09-26 19:20:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17147615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zebraljb/pseuds/zebraljb
Summary: PROMPT - something redI'm sorry - I am HORRIBLE at naming stories.Harry Hart is an art critic who has lost his love for the job, and consequently is losing jobs.  Eggsy Unwin is a barista who finds Harry alone and drunk on Christmas Eve.





	Color of Christmas

COLOR OF CHRISTMAS

“I’m sorry, Harry.”

Harry Hart stares at his best friend. “You’re sorry?”

Merlin sighs. “I did everything I could for ye. They’re looking for someone…”

“Younger?”

“Less cynical. It’s like every time ye go to a showing, Harry, ye cannae see everything with an open mind. You’re ready to hate it before you even see it.”

“It’s called having taste, Merlin.”

“I know, but it…it’s not what they’re looking for. I’m sorry.”

“So where does that leave me?” Harry moodily plays with Merlin’s pen. “An art critic with no audience.”

“Ye could start doing online reviews.”

Harry snorts. “Online?”

“The internet is an amazing thing, Harry. It reaches millions of people, and if ye started your own website, you’d be able to set your own deadlines. You’d be your own boss.”

“I write for newspapers.”

“Do ye know the number of newspapers still in print in London, Harry?”

“Don’t remind me.” Harry sighs. “I appreciate you making the attempt on my behalf, Merlin. A sign of a true friend.” He stands and puts on his coat. “I’ll consider this your Christmas gift to me.”

“Harry…”

“No. I mean it, thank you.” Harry puts a hand on Merlin’s shoulder.

“What will you do now?”

“Go to a pub and get properly pissed, I hope.”

“Harry.”

“Good night, Merlin.”

Harry leaves the office before he can say another word. True to his promise, he finds the closest pub to Merlin’s office that doesn’t look like it carries any communicable diseases and takes a seat at the bar. He’s Harry Hart. He’s been an art critic in London for almost twenty-five years, and he’s officially persona non grata in his chosen profession. Art is everything to him…and now he’s nothing to anyone else. 

He spends the next few hours running up an impressive bill while managing to still remain upright on his stool. “I hate to tell you, sir, but it’s last call,” the bartender finally says at ten o’clock,. “I’d like to get home to the missus.”

“Ah yes. Christmas Eve. I do apologize.” Harry’s hand shakes a bit as he reaches for his credit card. “Have I kept you from home?”

“No, sir. Was closing now anyway. Shall I call you a cab?” The man studies him skeptically. “I probably should have cut you off about thirty minutes ago.”

“My good man, I can absolutely hold my liquor.” Harry slides from his stool and almost lands on the floor.

“Easy there.”

“I’m fine.” Harry closes his eye and the room spins. He grabs the nearest bottle, fills his empty glass, and gulps it down. “I’m FINE.” He weaves to the door, attempting to pull his coat on.

“Here.” The bartender hurries around the bar and helps him. “You had it upside down.”

“Indeed. You have my gratitude.” Harry nods solemnly and stumbles out the door.

The cold air smacks him in the face and the wind does nothing more but add to his stumbling. He tries to hold onto the building, but plants and windows get in the way. He passes a few more doors but they’re all closed. He looks to the road but it seems so far away. He’ll just sit down and wave for a cab. The drivers in the city are quite attentive. Someone will stop for him. He sits down on the ground and leans against the building, closing his eyes for just a minute.

 

“Fuckin’ finally.” Eggsy Unwin grabs his thin winter coat and puts it on, jamming his hands into his gloves and reaching for the closed sign. He flips it around, makes sure everything’s in its place, and goes for the door. “Why am I so fuckin’ nice? Go ahead an’ leave early, I said. Ya got family, get home on Christmas Eve, I said.” He locks the door of the café and turns around. “Holy fuck!” He yells as he almost stumbles over a pair of long legs. He kneels down and looks at the man they’re attached to. The man doesn’t look like the usual bum you’d find on the street. He’s wearing an expensive suit and topcoat, and his hair is properly styled. He puts a hand on the man’s arm and shakes him a bit. “Hey…hey, bruv, wake up.”

“Hmm?” Beautiful brown eyes flutter open. “May I help you?”

“I think I should be askin’ ya tha same thing, mate.” 

“I beg your pardon. I was having a very nice nap,” the man says indignantly. “When one has lost everything, one deserves to nap when one wishes.”

“That might be true, but ya shouldn’t be nappin’ here on tha filthy pavement. Ruin yer suit, won’t it?”

“Oh. That’s true.” The man looks at his suit in dismay.

“C’mon. Up ya go.” Eggsy helps the man struggle to his feet. He’s tall and slender and looks to be quite a deal older than Eggsy himself. “Can I call ya a cab?”

“No thank you. I will walk.” The man starts to stumble away. 

“Tha fuck you will.” Eggsy grabs his arm and sighs. “Why dontcha show me yer wallet, an’ I can get yer address? Get ya home.”

“I most certainly will not. A ruffian like you…”

“Ain’t no fuckin’ ruffian!” Eggsy lets him go. “Fine, find yer way home, ya wanker.”

“I will.” The man turns away again and falls over a rubbish can.

“Oh fer fuck’s sake.” Eggsy absolutely cannot allow the man to stumble away on his own. “C’mere. My flat’s around tha corner…get some tea inta ya, sober ya up a bit.”

“Well, all right. But only because tea sounds quite lovely right about now.”

Eggsy manages to get the man around the corner and into his building. The stranger almost falls asleep standing up on the lift, but finally Eggsy’s unlocking the door of his tiny flat. “Make yerself at home, I guess. Loo’s down the hall on the right…only door other than tha bedroom.”

“Much obliged.” The man wanders down the hall and Eggsy starts tea. He waits to hear water running, the toilet flushing, something…but hears nothing. 

“You all right down there?” Eggsy heads down the hall and finds the man sprawled out on his bed. “Oi!” He rolls the man over.

“Quite comfortable…thank you…”

“Jesus. At least let’s get yer coat an’ shoes off.” He quickly unties the man’s obviously expensive shoes and lines them up under the bed. He gets the man to sit up and peels him out of his winter coat as well as his suit jacket. He also undoes the man’s tie and puts everything on his chair.

“You’re incredibly beautiful,” the man murmurs, reaching up to touch Eggsy’s cheek. “The light behind you…frames your head like an angel’s halo.” Eggsy turns red. “Is that what you are? Are you a Christmas angel?”

“Hardly, mate,” Eggsy snorts. “Now ya can lay down.”

“Ah, wonderful.” The man falls back onto Eggsy’s pillow. “Thank you…angel…”

 

Harry wakes up with a mouth full of cotton and a throbbing headache. He rolls over and gratefully spies a glass of water and paracetamol on the nightstand. He has the pills in his mouth and is drinking the water before he realizes he doesn’t recognize the glass, the nightstand, or the room he’s in. He takes a good look around. The bedroom is tiny, with cheap furniture and even cheaper linens on the bed. Drawings and sketches cover the walls, drawings mostly consisting of a little girl, a dog, and a very pretty woman. Harry slowly sits up. He’s tucked under a warm red blanket and still wearing his suit. He gets out of bed and tiptoes to the door. He can hear Christmas music coming from another room and softly walks down the hall in his stocking feet. 

A young man is puttering about the kitchen, singing along with the radio as he cooks. He has a beautiful voice, and a beautiful face to go with it. Harry clears his throat and the man jumps. “Jesus fuck!”

“I’m…I’m horribly sorry to disturb you.”

“Ya didn’t disturb me. Glad ta see ya up…you was sleepin’ like tha dead in there…thought you’d never wake up.” The young man, barely more than a boy, gives him a bright smile and the oxygen seems to leave the room. “Happy Christmas.”

“Happy…oh. Yes. Happy Christmas to you as well.” 

“Was makin’ myself some breakfast…sure ya don’t want too much, but I could make ya tea an’ toast?”

“That sounds…that sounds good,” Harry realizes.

“Why dontcha take a shower first…back down the hall. You can use tha red dressing gown on the door…should fit ya.” The young man makes a face. “Belongs ta my ex…he’s about yer height.”

“Excuse me, but…how did I get here? Did we…” Harry motions between them. He doesn’t mind the idea in the slightest, but he would at least like to remember being taken to bed by this vision of loveliness.

“Fuck no!” The boy says with a laugh. “No offense, of course…yer right fit.” The last words are said shyly and Harry blushes. “I work at a café, closed down last night an’ found ya passed out on tha pavement out front.”

“Oh my God.” Harry’s mortified.

“Tried ta get ya into a cab but ya wouldn’t tell me yer address. Finally brought ya back here an’ ya passed out in my bed.”

“I…it appears I owe you a great debt,” Harry says quietly. “I do apologize for the inconvenience.”

“Gettin’ ya here was a battle, but I prevailed,” the boy says with a grin. “M’name’s Eggsy, by the way. Well, Gary, but I go by Eggsy.”

“Harry.” Harry reaches out and Eggsy shakes his hand.

“Why dontcha go take that shower. Everything will feel better after that, m’sure.”

“All right. Thank you again.” Eggsy smiles and nods and Harry heads for the shower.

The shampoo and bath products are inexpensive but the hot water does its job. Harry feels like a new man when he reappears wearing his own trousers and the aforementioned red dressing gown. “Thank you again,” Harry says almost shyly.

“Ya look human now,” Eggsy says with a grin. “Here.” He points to a plate of toast and a cup of tea. Harry gratefully sits down and prepares his tea. Eggsy whistles as he finishes up his own breakfast.

Harry puts down his cup. “Good heavens. It’s Christmas.”

“Yeah, that’s why I said Happy Christmas to ya when ya got up,” Eggsy says slowly. “Say, ‘arry, ya didn’t hit yer head last night, didya?”

“No, just…don’t you have to be somewhere? I saw your drawings in your room…a wife and daughter?”

“Oi, that lady’s my mum!” Eggsy almost yells. “An’ my little sister. Told ya I had an ex-boyfriend.”

“Well, I didn’t want to…my apologies,” Harry stammers.

“It’s all right. I called Mum this morning, told her I might be late comin’ over today…doin’ my part ta spread some Christmas cheer.” He gives Harry a tiny smile.

“I’m very sorry to keep you from your family.”

“It’s all right. Daisy…my sister…she’s a bit loud on Christmas morning.” Eggsy shakes his head. “Mum manages three, maybe four gifts, an’ Daisy acts like she’s never had a gift in her LIFE.”

Harry chuckles quietly, trying not to make his head explode. “The drawings…you’re very good.”

Eggsy rolls his eyes. “Hobby. Art don’t pay tha bills.”

“Sometimes it does,” Harry comments. “You said you work in a café.”

“Yeah…makin’ coffee. THAT pays the bills, at least fer me.” 

“Well, you make excellent tea.” Harry picks up his cup again. 

They look at each other for a moment. “Christmas…ya ain’t got nowhere ta be? Wife? Family?” Eggsy asks shyly.

“No. My friend Merlin occasionally invites me to dinner with his family, but I only accept on occasion. I…no wife. Not…not my partner of choice.”

“I understand. Sorry yer alone on Christmas, though.”

Harry shrugs. “I used to travel a lot on my jobs, so the days and holidays all ran together.”

“Really? I’d love ta travel. What do ya do?”

“I was…am…an art critic.”

“So ya go ta galleries an’ shows an’ then ya say what ya think about tha art?” Harry nods. Eggsy looks impressed. “What site ya on? Maybe I read yer stuff.”

“I doubt it. My articles ran in newspapers all over the world.”

“Oh.” Eggsy blushes a bit. “Well, I bet lotsa people would read yer stuff if ya went online, swear down.”

“That’s what Merlin says.”

“Harry…” Eggsy finishes his tea and gets up for more. “Last night ya told me that ya lost everything, an’ that’s why you was so drunk an’ nappin’ on tha pavement. Can I ask what happened? Are ya all right?”

“If you mean physically, Eggsy, yes. I am. Offers for my articles have decreased, and my last hope turned me down last night. Apparently I’ve become cynical and cold in my old age, and people are tired of hearing about it.”

“M’sorry. Ain’t really got a career or nothin’, but if I did, an’ I had it fer a long time, an’ people told me I was shite at it, I’d be upset, too.”

“Art is all I’ve ever cared about. It’s been my husband, you might say, for over twenty years. I myself am a fair artist, nothing to write home about. But I’ve always been able to see the truth behind the work of others…up until recently. I’ve found nothing inspirational, nothing of value in what I see. Perhaps that comes across as cynical.” Harry shakes his head.

“Would…would ya tell me what ya think of my work?” Eggsy asks timidly. “An’ ya can be honest as ya want. I won’t mind.”

“If you truly want me to.” Harry feels it’s the least he can do. The scribbles on Eggsy’s wall weren’t bad, just rough. He can give the boy encouragement on Christmas Day.

“All right.” Eggsy gets up and heads for the bedroom. He returns with a sketch book and hands it to Harry.

“Let’s see, then.” Harry brushes the toast crumbs from his hands before opening the book. “Oh. Well.”

It’s nothing like what he expected. These are full-size drawings. Drawings of an adorable pug, his nose and big dark eyes jumping from the page. The little girl on Eggsy’s wall, head thrown back in laughter, hair blowing in an invisible wind. Eggsy’s mother smiling down at a baby in her arms. The Peter Pan statue in Kensington Gardens. A castle with flowers whispering up its walls.

“Well?” Eggsy bites at a fingernail. “What do ya think?”

“Eggsy.” Harry closes the book. “I think you have very great potential. Your work is raw, unguided. But with the right person to lead you…I think you have a remarkable gift. You see the people in your drawings…you bring them to life.” 

“Oh.” Eggsy turns red. “Thank ya, ‘arry.”

“I can give you some names…people that might want to help you.”

“I don’t think so. I just wondered if I was any good. Thanks all tha same.”

“If I speak to them, they wouldn’t charge you.” Harry wonders if this is the reason Eggsy’s turning him down.

“Don’t need charity, thanks.” Eggsy stands up with his book.

“Eggsy. Dear boy…” The endearment slips out before Harry can stop it. “Please don’t be offended. I didn’t mean it as charity. You were so kind to me, a stranger…bringing me into your home on Christmas Eve. This is the least I can do.”

“No need ta repay me, bruv. What any decent human being woulda done.”

“I beg to differ,” Harry says, but at least Eggsy sits back down after refilling Harry’s tea. “Now…if I might do a bit of prying myself?” Eggsy shrugs. Harry fingers the sleeve of the red dressing gown. “This is a very nice, probably very costly dressing gown. May I ask about its prior owner?”

“He…he never wore it. Yer the first,” Eggsy says quietly. “Thought we was somethin’, ya know? We’d been…can’t say datin’…seein’ each other fer six months. Met at tha shop, he gave me his number. Name’s Charlie. Educated bloke, way above me, but we hit it off. Sex was pretty good, although he was a lot more take than give, if ya get me.”

“I do,” Harry says sadly, having met a few men just like this in his life. He also thinks he sees where this is going.

“So, it’s Christmas, right, an’ I saved my quid an’ got him tha gown. Thought he could use it when he was here, right? I sorta started realizin’ that we was ALWAYS here…we always just stayed in. Never went fer dinner, never EVER went ta his. I wrap it up an’ hand it to ‘im, an’ he laughs. Says what do I think, he’s my boyfriend or sommat? Ends up I’m just his bit on tha side, he’s engaged ta some fancy bird with a hyphenated last name. Comes runnin’ ta me when he needs ta get his dick sucked or feels tha need ta fuck someone.” Eggsy hurriedly wipes at his eyes. “So, yeah. Finally wised up an’ dropped his posh arse, about six months too late.”

“I’m sorry.” Harry reaches over and touches his hand. “People like that…they’re so uncomfortable in their own skin that they feel the need to take it out on those around him…the kind, good-hearted people such as yourself. I’ve seen a lot of them in my day, although for people of my generation it’s a bit different. We had to hide our true selves for so long, you see. But young men like you…it’s so different for you.”

“Ya ain’t that much older than me.”

“I’m afraid I am,” Harry says sadly. How he wishes it wasn’t true. The boy is beautiful, but he’s also charming and intelligent and talented and so very kind. 

“Bet ya’d never treat someone that way.”

“No, I would not.” Harry realizes he’s still holding Eggsy’s hand, and Eggsy hasn’t pulled away. “I would treat you like the prince you are. I would take you out, proudly show you off, put you on my arm and take you everywhere you wanted to go. I would buy you gifts and gladly receive yours, because I would know that your thought and hard-earned money went into purchasing them. I would take you to the finest restaurants or the dirtiest pubs for dinner, whatever you wanted. Or I’d bring you to my home and watch telly and eat takeaway with you.” Harry blinks as he realizes Eggsy’s staring at him. “Oh, I do beg your pardon. I suppose I got carried away.” He tries to pull his hand away but Eggsy won’t let him.

“You’d…you’d do all that fer me?” The question is a whisper. “I ain’t nothin’, ‘arry. Just a barista.”

“You’re a handsome young man with an obvious heart of gold. Your job is of no consequence to me,” Harry says honestly.

“Well…maybe…maybe we could do all that, if ya asked me out on a proper date,” Eggsy says, swallowing hard.

“Oh, my boy. You don’t want to go out with an old dinosaur like me.” Harry finally frees his hand.

“I think I do. I think I want ta go out on a date with a fit as fuck older posh gent with legs fer days, gorgeous brown eyes, and a heart that’s probably a bit dusty from bein’ hidden away fer so long.”

Harry stands. “I’m going to get dressed and go. You need to get over to your mother’s.”

“Right.” Eggsy looks absolutely destroyed, and doesn’t move from his seat when Harry leaves the room. 

 

When Harry returns fifteen minutes later Eggsy’s waiting by the door. He won’t make that mistake again, saying what he actually thinks. And what WAS he thinking? A posh gent like Harry being interested in someone like him, someone who’d just admitted to being someone’s whore on the side? “Well.”

“I thank you for your care, your generosity, and your hospitality, Eggsy,” Harry says formally. “You’ve been far too kind.”

“Weren’t nothin’,” he mutters.

“I was wondering if you were free tomorrow.”

Eggsy’s heart starts to pound. “Tomorrow? Boxing Day?”

“Yes.” Harry’s face remains unreadable, although his eyes are warm.

“Well, I, uh, I have to work.” Eggsy sighs. “Ten ta six.”

“Well, if you won’t be too tired, I would love to take you out for dinner.”

“Me?”

“No, your red dressing gown. Yes, you.” Harry finally smiles. 

“I…yeah. I’d really like that.”

“Excellent.” Harry beams at him and Eggsy feels warm from the inside out. “Shall I pick you up here, or at your shop?”

“Shop is fine,” Eggsy says immediately. He won’t want to waste one minute. “I can bring clothes, clean up there.”

“Wonderful. Until tomorrow at six, then.” Harry nods and opens the door. “Goodbye until then.”

“Goodbye,” Eggsy whispers. He closes the door behind Harry and leans against it. He hears a knock and he jumps. “Harry?”

“I am sorry…I forgot to give you my number.” He hands Eggsy a business card. “Just in case.”

“Oh, yeah. Thanks. Wait.” Eggsy whirls around and finally grabs a shoebox from the floor. He dumps out the trainers and tears a bit of the lid. He finds a pen and writes his number on it before handing the scrap to Harry. “Just in case…or, ya know, if ya get bored an’ wanna text. I’ll be busy, but I get breaks and all.”

“All right, then.” Harry nods and leaves once more. Eggsy is three steps away from the door when there’s another knock. “I am sorry, but I don’t know the name of your café, I’m afraid,” Harry says apologetically. He’s adorable and Eggsy is inwardly swooning.

“Café Flora,” Eggsy replies. “It’s…”

“I’ll find it. It’s near Merlin’s office, I know that. Good day.” Harry smiles and leaves once more. Eggsy leans against the door and waits. Sure enough, there’s one more knock and he throws the door open with a grin on his face. “Eggsy?”

“Yes, ‘arry?”

Harry touches his face, pulling him in with one finger under his chin. He gives Eggsy a very soft, very tender kiss that makes his knees weak and his cock hard. “Happy Christmas.”

Harry takes the doorknob and closes the door this time, leaving Eggsy to lean against it with a dazed smile on his face.


End file.
